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Chapter Text

Merlin nearly loses his balance as Arthur suddenly grasps his shirt and pulls him around the corner. They push their backs against the cold wall as they try to get their breathing back under control. This is not good.

Arthur's stiff next to him, Merlin can nearly feel the exhaustion in his trembling arm. He's not sure if the blood on Arthur's sword comes from their enemy, or the wound on his friend's shoulder.

The beast is getting closer, the horrible sound of dragging flesh over hard floors getting louder once again. Merlin isn't even sure what it is, but it doesn't seem to tire. He and Arthur, on the other hand, are getting to the end of their ropes.

A low growl echos through the hall, and Merlin risk a peek around the corner. The hall is empty, but Merlin can see the shadows on the wall moving. It's almost here, and when it comes, it'll find them.

“Whatever you think of doing,” Arthur suddenly whispers, “don't.”

“But-”

“Don't."

Even though his voice isn't louder than a whisper, Merlin can still hear the very clear warning in it. Funny, how Arthur can do that. Maybe it comes with being king. Good thing Merlin has always been immune to that tone. He turns back to Arthur, keeping his voice equally low.

“Well, last time-”

“What do you mean ‘last time’?” Arthur's voice edges on disbelief and anger, clearly not pleased with what Merlin is implying.

They look at each other for a moment, both knowing what the other is thinking. The last time Merlin jumped in front of something for Arthur he almost died. Thinking back to that moment is enough to remember the pain that instantly seeped into his bones, the cold that made him unable to move and trapped him in his skin, making him wish for anything to stop it.

“Right, I’m doing it.” He has just enough time to see the realization in Arthur's eyes before he turns and jumps back into the hall. Arthur's yell of his name gets lost in the roar the beast lets out as Merlin comes face to face with it. The horrible malformed face locks on Merlin, and it raises itself up. Maybe if he's fast enough, Merlin can get it before its tentacles reach him.

He extends his hand, spell ready to go and- oh.

Pain shoots up from Merlin's side and he glances down to see a tentacle penetrated his skin. Oh.

A shout echos through the hall and suddenly Arthur is there, sword flashing as he cuts off the long tentacle before ramming the blade into the beast's face. Huh, guess you don't need magic to defeat it after all, Merlin thinks.

He blinks and suddenly he's on the floor, a new wave of pain shooting up his body as the tentacle is pulled away. For some reason, he can't really feel much. It's like the world is covered in a haze. He watches as the beast collapses and its body starts to melt.

“…Interesting. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Suddenly, Arthur is by his side, holding him up. “What did you think would happen when you jump in front of murderous monsters, you idiot?”

“Well…” Merlin mumbles, trying to gesture towards the pile of rotten flesh that once was the beast. Why does his arm feel so heavy? “Not this, obviously.”

“Merlin?” Arthur's voice sounds soft. Why is he still whispering? The beast is dead, right? Merlin doesn't really want to think about it. He's tired. “I'm just going to- to...”

“No, don't close your eyes, that's an order!”

Don't tell me what to do, Merlin thinks, as the world starts to spin. Just a quick nap. Just... he'll get back to work later... he's just... wants to sleep... just-

“Merlin!”

The world goes dark.

Chapter Text

The silence in the room is suffocating, a stark contrast to the clinging of metal and flashes of magic only moments before. Now, there is nothing but floating dust and moonlight shining through the broken windows of Merlin's hidden hovel, the only sound coming from their heavy breathing.

Arthur looks around the room, and the aftermath of their fight. At Merlin's broken table, the round shape now divided into pieces. At the wall behind him, the hole Merlin blew in it giving him a view of the night sky, with Camelot in the distance. At Excalibur, lying a few feet away. He sees the blood that is still dripping from the blade, and even if he could move, he doubts he'd try to get it. Coming here feels like a horrible mistake, now.

Looking across the room, to the corner where the moonlight doesn't reach, Arthur can just make out Merlin's form, where he's crouched next to the body of his dragon. His breathing is shaky and uneven, and his hands are hovering above the white scales. His back is turned to Arthur, making it impossible to see his face.

Taking that opportunity, Arthur once again tries to break free, fighting against the invisible magic that keeps him trapped in a chair. But it won't budge, he can't even lift a finger.

Suddenly, Merlin stands, making Arthur freeze. The whole room seems to hold its breath in anticipation as Merlin looks down at his dragon. It feels like the world itself is waiting for his next move.

A beat passes, and Merlin turns, stepping into the moonlight as he walks closer, still not looking up.

Arthur's throat is dry. He needs to say something, anything, to make this right, to fix this. But the words don't seem to come, and he can only watch in silence as Merlin slumps down in the chair across from Arthur's, head slightly bowed and eyes closed.

A few moments of silence pass.

Merlin opens his eyes and gives his head a small shake. When he finally speaks, it's resigned and broken, his voice low in the solemn silence of the room. “I thought... maybe we could turn back, to what we used to be. Even though I'm... different.”

Sounding on the verge of tears, Merlin sighs, and Arthur realizes it's not the gold that's still swimming in his eyes that make his former friend look unnatural. It's the defeated look, and the broken voice, instead. Merlin used to be unstoppable hope and warm smiles, shining eyes, and unwavering loyalty. The Merlin in front of him, sitting in the cold moonlight, is not that person anymore. And it's Arthur's fault.

Merlin is the monster Arthur created, long before he chose his dark path.

The warlock’s eyes slide up, and they lock onto Arthur's. “But you've changed too.”

Arthur swallows, wishing he knew what to say, how to reach Merlin again. But he's never been able to do that, has he?

“So,” Merlin says, pushing himself out of his chair, a new finality to his tone. “Here’s to the new us.”

His footsteps echo through the small hut as Merlin walks closer. He stops next to Arthur's chair for a second, and looks at him.
“I'm sorry,” Arthur blurts out, finally able to speak. “I'm so sorry, Merlin.”

Merlin's gaze slide's away, and his mouth draws into a tight line. He doesn't look angry; just sad. He gives a slight nod before walking away, his eyes still downcast. He knows, Arthur realizes, he knows Arthur is sorry, for everything. But it doesn't matter anymore.

They've broken, and these are the pieces that are left. There is no going back now.

Arthur has to strain his neck to see where Merlin's going. His body still refuses to move, and his chest fills with dread as Merlin walks to the destroyed wall behind him, perfectly framing Camelot in the distance.

“Merlin?” Arthur asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

Merlin doesn't react, and from this angle Arthur can just see the side of his face, see his eyes fill with sorrow as he looks at his former home. Then, that sorrow changes to anger and pain, and Merlin lifts a hand.

The magic is instant. A blue light starts to glow from Merlin's fingers, onto his palm and growing in size. The rays of light shine past his body, into the room and onto Arthur's face. It grows and grows, the air vibrating with the intensity of the magic.

Arthur is reminded of how powerful Merlin is. Standing there, in the broken wall, magic growing and glowing around him with Camelot in the background, he looks terrifying. He is a creature of nightmare; he is dragonfire wrapped in a skin of shadows.

Through the blinding light, Arthur can still see Merlin's golden eyes, see the moment they flicker up and tears spill out as his face scrunches up in anger, and he realizes what Merlin plans to do. He shouts, but it's too late.

Merlin screams, a horrible broken sound, releasing all his anger, grief, sorrow, and pain, and he moves his hand. The magic responds instantly, flying out of Merlin's palm and into the sky, blowing dust and wind towards Arthur with the force of it, making him turn back to shield his face.

Suddenly, he falls forward, the invisible bonds that kept him bound to his chair now gone, and Arthur scrambles up, rushing towards the broken wall.

Merlin is still standing there, but Arthur barely pays attention to him as his magic is flying through the sky, the bright blue light clearly visible against the dark black. It doesn't slow, but only seems to grow and speed up as it races towards Camelot, towards home.

Arthur can only scream as it hits

Chapter Text

Being a prince in Camelot is great, but there was one huge downside to it.

History lessons.

Father says that if he paid more attention to his tutor, he would have to do less work when his classes are over. Which Oliver supposes is technically true, but it's hardly his fault his tutor is the most boring man to have ever lived.

It's also not his fault that he got distracted by a name he's never seen before, and that he couldn't find it anywhere else. What else is he supposed to do then leave the library and ask his parents about it? And maybe stop by the kitchens to grab some food. It's not stealing if it's your castle right? Right.

So he walks into his parents' chambers, finding his father working at the desk and his mother sitting at their table.

His father, King Arthur, who united the lands of Albion, brought magic back, and made Camelot into the greatest kingdom mankind has ever seen.

No pressure to live up to anything there.

Oliver clears his throat. "Father, Mother."

His father looks up and starts to smile at seeing his son. His mother, however, squints her eyes suspiciously.

"Aren't you supposed to work on your lessons?"

Oliver smiles innocently. "That's why I'm here actually," he explains. "Who is Merlin?"

The energy in the room shifts, his father's smile falls, his mother freezes slightly, and the adults exchange a look. It's silent for a few moments, just long enough for Oliver to know something is not okay.

Then, his father sighs, and turns back to Oliver. The prince has never seen his eyes look so old and so sad.

"It's best if we don't talk about that."

Everything was definitely not okay.

Chapter Text

"You look terrible."

Merlin rubs his eyes at Gaius' voice, blinking a few times as he goes to sit up straight. "Thanks."

Gaius puts down his medicine bag and walks into the room, squinting his eyes at Merlin in suspicion. "You're not getting sick, are you?"

The old man places a hand against Merlin's forehead, making Merlin lean back in an attempt to avoid it. "I'm fine."

Leaving his hand on Merlin's head a little longer, Gaius hums. "Are you feeling some after-effects from the potion?"

"No."

"From the spell, then?"

"No."

Gaius removes his hand and walks around the table, sitting down next to Merlin. He looks at him, waiting until Merlin meets his eyes. But Merlin doesn't budge, the warlock just keeps staring at the table, plucking at a splinter of wood.

"Do you still ache all over?"

That gets a small smile out of Merlin, and he shakes his head. "No," he finally looks up at his guardian. "My body is fine, Gaius. I swear."

"But something else is not."

Merlin shrugs, looking away again. He goes to sit sidewards on the bench, drawing his knees up so he can rest his chin on them. Gaius' heart clenches at the sight. He looks way too young to have such an old look in his eyes.

“I…I have nightmares," Merlin confesses. "Not every night, but…” He trails off, closing his eyes again. "I don't understand why. I've always known I could end up on the pyre, and this time it was deliberate. I haven't dreamt of it like this in years so why- " He cuts off, pressing a hand against his eye as his voice hitches. "Sorry, I’m just tired.”

"It's not unexpected to be affected by what happened, Merlin," Gaius reassures him.

"But it's not even..." Merlin waves his hand around in frustration as he opens his eyes again. "I've been through much worse than this. And everything is fine now. I'm not even hurt or anything."

"Merlin," Gaius makes sure to keep his voice gentle. "I may specialize in physical injuries, but I have seen plenty of different wounds in my time."

His ward looks up at him, the bags under his eyes standing out all too clearly against his pale skin. "You don't have to have to be bleeding to be hurt. Our minds need to heal as well. You've been through a traumatic experience, there is no shame in needing to recover from that."

Merlin's eyes slide away again as he thinks over Gaius's words. Gaius hopes they help him. He wasn't lying when he said he specializes in physical injuries; there has never been any training on how to deal with scared warlocks burdened with the destiny of a kingdom. But I'm trying Merlin, truly, I am.

"Were you scared?" Merlin asks softly. "After Aradian, and what he did to you?"

"I was."

"What did you do?"

Gaius sighs, remembering how he learned to deal with his fears long before Aradian showed up. "I moved on."

Merlin lifts his head, raising his eyebrows in question, and Gaius continues. "I knew that I had people here who would protect me, and who were worth protecting. I focussed on that."

The life seems to drain out of Merlin, as he drops his head miserably and his shoulder sag. "I can't stop seeing how they looked at me," he mumbles. "Like they didn't know me, like they hated me. I know they just saw Dragoon, but-" He takes a deep breath as his eyes water, and Gaius reaches out to place a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"That won't happen, Merlin."

"You don't know that."

"I know Arthur," Gaius says as he tightens his hold on Merlin's shoulder. "I know he's a good man, and when the time comes he will stand by you. It's your destiny, Merlin. Have faith in him."
Merlin inhales sharply and nods, eyes hardening at the mention of his destiny, as they always do. Good, Gaius thinks, focus on that, not your fears.

Patting Merlin's shoulder, Gaius stands and walks to his workspace. "I'll make you a tonic for tonight. It'll help you sleep, and you won't dream."

Merlin smiles and moves to get up as well. "Thank you, Gaius."

Gaius nods and turns his back to Merlin to start working on the potion. "Now get back to work, before your destiny starts missing you."

Merlin snorts, and Gaius hears him grumble as the young man exits the room. "If by destiny you mean Arthur's dirty socks, then sure."

Gaius smiles. Merlin will be fine.

Chapter Text

"I cannot believe you woke me up for this," Merlin mumbled as he rubbed the sleep out of his eye. It was early, the sun not even fully up, and the castle hallways empty and cold.

Arthur scoffed as he led Merlin around another corner. "He's your dragon."

"You're the King," Merlin grumbled, "that makes him your dragon as well. Besides, he likes you more than me anyway."

"Funny how you only acknowledge that when he's in trouble."

Merlin mumbled something that Arthur couldn't quite make out, but he's sure he heard 'prat' in there somewhere. Rolling his eyes, Arthur stopped walking as they arrived at their destination. He took some satisfaction in seeing Merlin grow pale as the warlock also realized where they were. With a smirk, Arthur pushed the door open.

They were instantly greeted by the sound of a breaking pot. Arthur's smile turned into a grimace as a fresh wave of dust flew their way. Next to him, he saw Merlin cringe slightly as he also took in the scene.

The room, once neatly organized and proudly displaying Gaius's pot collection, was now a scene of chaos. There were shards everywhere; on the floor, the shelves, the table... and in between the sea of broken pots was a small dragon happily bouncing around, not even looking up as his King and Lord stepped into the room.

Arthur turned to Merlin, one eyebrow raised.

"Well," the warlock visibly swallowed. "It could have been worse."

"Worse?" Arthur turned back to the room, watching the silver dragon attempt to climb another shelf. "How could this possibly be worse?"

"They're not all broken, there's still some over th-"

Crash!

The shelve collapsed under the dragon's weight, and the pots fell down, shattering as they hit the floor. The creature jumped up, running into another pot which somehow survived. It broke on impact and joined the mess on the floor.

"Makari," Merlin said, finally jumping into action. "Stop."

The dragon paused, twitching his head slightly as Merlin spoke, but decided to ignore him and jumped into another pile of shards.

Merlin frowned and took a step forward, crushing a shard under his feet. "Makari," he repeated, and this time Arthur could hear the power in his voice. It was a warning, not yet a command.

The silver dragon stopped this time, his small head poking out from the shard pile that still hid most of his body, giving Merlin an innocent look. Merlin, for all his weak spots for dragons, wasn't having it though. "Get out."

Makari lowered his eyes and slowly climbed out of the pile, her head low and tail between her legs as she walked past Merlin, eyeing him like a guilty dog. When he had passed Merlin, he quickened his pace and jumped up slightly when spotting Arthur. The king couldn't resist petting him on the head as he passed, and the dragon happily jumped out of the room.

Merlin let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, there. Problem solved," he started walking towards the door, trying to push past Arthur. "I'm going back to bed."

Arthur grabbed his jacket and pushed him back, giving Merlin a pointed look.

"What?"

"You're not leaving until you fix this."

"But-" Merlin turned back to the room. "I can't just fix this, I have to find which shards belong together, it will take hours!"

"Well," Arthur patted him on the shoulder. "Better get to it, then."

Merlin groaned. "I hate you."

Letting out a laugh, Arthur left the room and closed the door. He'll send a servant to help Merlin later. Maybe.

Right now, Arthur was going back to sleep, it was way too early for this.

Chapter Text

"Just a small fire? Come on..." Merlin looked at the pile of wood he had set up, sadly still not ignited, and the small white dragon that was happily bouncing around the pile.

It was deep at night, but the moon gave plenty of light, as it always did on nights like this. Merlin had sat down so Aithusa could happily jump on him as she arrived, and his trousers got slightly damp from the grass in the clearing. He doesn't mind though, it could be pouring rain and thunderstorms and he'd still come here.

Aithusa chirped once, and curiously took a twig from the pile between her teeth and started pulling. "No," Merlin quickly reached forward to stop the pile from collapsing. "Just... set it on fire. Kilgharrah says you're old enough for this now. Ignis, Aithusa."

The dragon let go of the stick and sat down, looking at her dragonlord in confusion. Merlin sighed. Apparently commands don't work when your dragon doesn't know what they mean.

"Okay, let's try something else," Merlin muttered as Aithusa got distracted by a firefly and started chasing it. He took some of the wood and made a separate, smaller pile.

"Aithusa, come," he called out, and she instantly started running towards him. Merlin couldn't help but smile, and gave her a quick scratch underneath her chin, making her purr. "Okay, look."

He extended his hand towards his pile. "Baern."

Instantly, the wood ignited and a warm light bounced off Merlin and Aithusa. The dragon jumped up, squeaking excitedly as she looked at the fire, and then at Merlin. The warlock gestured toward the remaining pile, and Aithusa turned towards it.

She positioned herself, a wiggle going through her body before inhaling deeply. After one long second of anticipation, Aithusa breathed out, a burst of fire coming along. It hit the wood and several logs flew backward with the force of her breath. Merlin jumped up as they rolled over the grass, setting leaves on fire despite their damp state.

Aithusa jumped up excitedly as Merlin rushed to extinguish the flames before they would spread, quickly yelling out spells to tame the stubborn dragon fire. He managed in the end, and sat down tiredly. Aithusa walked over, happily biting at some sparks that still flew through the air. She dropped down over Merlin's legs, looking up at him with those adorable eyes.

"Small fire," Merlin sighed and petted her. " I said set a small fire, This was not small."

Aithusa didn't seem to mind and just closed her eyes at Merlin's pets, letting out a small burp with a few sparks. Merlin shook his head but couldn't stop smiling in pride.

His dragon breathed fire.